


3:00 A.M.

by ImYourEventHorizon



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Gen, Tragedy, bit of angst, car crash, everything else seems to burn, guilty dan, ignore the tags it doesnt make any sense, im sorry for the tags, its just an accident, not that graphic, sorry for the ugly pun, supposed to be a horror or something, supposed to be posted on spooky week, very vague summary but please give it a try
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-15
Updated: 2016-11-15
Packaged: 2018-08-31 05:37:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8566054
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImYourEventHorizon/pseuds/ImYourEventHorizon
Summary: The world stops as he hears it again -a hum and a tap before a chair starts to creak. The alarm blares. Dan turns to look at the clock. It's 3:00 A.M.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Just gonna say that I'm very thankful that you decided to check this fic out. I hope that this wouldn't bore you that much, and would at least provide some kind of entertainment... or something.  
> Thank you, and I hope you enjoy! ^^

Dan awakens to the sound of tapping rain, counting itself as the clock ticks by. He rubs his eyes, already misty and pouring like the rain outside. He releases a breath, shaky and cracked, before he gazes at the alarm clock beside his bed.

2:33 A.M.

Dan stills, his hands clutching the sheets until his knuckles turns white. He closes his eyes before laying back down, burying himself under the covers as he drifts off, trying to block out the counting of the dripping rain.

Dan awakens again to tapping, and he wonders why tapping rain sounds like keyboard.

Keyboard?

In an instant, he jolts right up, pushing himself against the headboard. He just stares at his open macbook screen- the light clear and blinding behind a person tapping away at the keyboard. Dan covers his ears, curling up like a ball as he focuses on the tapping rain, ignoring the keyboard and the taps and the person's humming. He holds his breath in as the tapping stops, closing his eyes as he focuses on the pouring rain outside, but even then, that seems to wash itself away as a chair creaks. He presses his palms harder against his ears, biting his lips as he releases shallow breaths. His heart beats against its cage- cold sweat damping the sheets over his body.

Dan just stays there, the silence defeaning the sound of the clock, the tapping of the rain, and the shallowness of his breaths. He waits, trying to count the seconds 'till it's past three. He breaths in, and breaths out. He slowly lowers his hands, only to jolt at an alarm. His eyes opens, and dread fills him as the alarm keeps blaring.

3:00 A.M.

"Sorry, Dan. Did I wake you?" A scream escapes his lips as Phil turns, a smile on his face.

Dan immediately scrambles off the bed, making a way to the door. He shakes the knob repeatedly, trying to pry the door open, only to realize that it's locked from the outside. Still, he shakes it repeatedly, hands getting colder by the second. He doesn't dare look back, doesn't even scream as he hears footsteps walking over to him. He kicks the knob, but it's still in its place even after he tries to smash it with a vase.

One. Two. He can hear footsteps approaching him, and he grabs another nearby object -a book- before hitting the doorknob repeatedly with it. He loses his grip on it as he loses his balance, but his hands still tries to pry open the doorknob. He's shaking -he can feel it- and he trips on his feet on the way to the desk to grab another object, chucking it at the door. It ends with a crash as he grabs another one -a picture frame- ready to throw it, only for it to stop mid-way.

"You shouldn't be reckless, Dan." He can feel an icy-cold breath on the back of his neck, and he claw himself towards the door, the picture frame forgotten in his arms.

"Please, Phil." He can hear his breathing, the rain, the clock, and the footsteps shuffling closer.

"Dan, it's not your fault." He backs away from the voice, pressing himself against the door as he holds the picture frame a little too tight.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. It's all my fault. I'm sorry. It's all my- I'm sorry, Phil." He lets go of the picture frame as it makes an inaudible crash when it falls to the ground. He presses his palms against his ears, tightly closing his eyes.

Dan can feel it, Phil's breathing, but it's not true because Phil never came back.

Phil didn't.

Dan tries to even his breathing, only to make it worse as a hand touches his face, and he can no longer swallow the lump on his throat and the burning corners of his eyes.

"It's not your fault, Dan." He breathes in as the world comes back to him -the rain pelting heavily against the window, the light already gone from his macbook's screen, the clock ticking almost inaudibly amongst his sniffs and sobs. He turns to look at the clock.

3:01 A.M.

His eyes burn, and so does his throat, and so did the car when it crashed, and when it's not his fault when it is, but Phil is quick and reassuring and kind and beautiful and honest and full of compassion and inventive and creative and everything else that Dan will never be, and the whole world loves Phil for it because Phil will never burn, but it is quick and Phil's on fire, and Youtube is on fire, and everything else is on fire, and he is on fire. He was. He still is.

He looks at the minute, and it stays there.

3:01 A.M.

He brushes away pieces of the broken frame beside him, and hugs the picture to his chest. He can hear the firefighters, and the crash, and their lives not-so-long-ago, and he'll never forget the fire and the crash because Phil is beautiful and the fire isn't, and he isn't because he's ugly, and he needs to die because he's on fire and Phil isn't.

Phil shouldn't have.

But the doctors said otherwise, and Dan couldn't care less of his injuries because Phil was on fire, and the blood and the smoke and the firefighters and the ambulance and the emergency and Phil... Phil was lost. Phil shouldn't have. Maybe if Dan wasn't so stupid, maybe he wouldn't have swerved it the other way, but he did, and now... He looks at the clock.

3:01 A.M.

Dan chokes on himself before curling against the door, whispering and whispering as he clutches the picture tighter with pale hands.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, Phil. I'm so sorry, Phil..." The world stops as he hears it again -a hum and a tap before a chair starts to creak.

The alarm blares.

Dan turns to look at the clock.

It's 3:00 A.M.


End file.
